


Sunrise

by shoelessmoose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Smut, chestervelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoelessmoose/pseuds/shoelessmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo hadn't been expecting anyone else to show up to the Roadhouse at four in the morning, but when Dean came in, bruised up from a fight with a couple of werewolves, she helps to stitch him up and even cooks him a meal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise

It was already four in the morning and there were still a few stragglers lingering at the Roadhouse. Jo meant to close up shop hours ago, but there was something about the expressions on the worn out hunters’ faces that begged for a few more drinks. Plus, the full moon always seemed to make the hunters a little more wary about stepping out in the darkness. She knew the life was hard, so she fought through her own exhaustion to provide the lonely hunters with a bit of company, good music, and as much alcohol as their hearts desired. One, in particular, had gotten so stupefied that he had passed out on the table. With the help of some others, she had been able to move him to a cot in the back, having too much heart to ask him to leave.

After making a few rounds, she found her place back behind the bar, and leaned against it, cradling her head in her hands. She had a pounding headache and she could feel her eyes drooping. The business of taking care of hunters was not easy. She sighed, lifting her head up and browsing some files that her mother had stuffed beside the old police scanner. As she leaned over the counter, the back of her tank top slid up, revealing the small of her back and also the knife she had safely tucked into her belt. Her eyes browsed the pages, not taking much interest in the content of them at this hour.

Outside, the familiar roar of the 1967 Impala hummed through Dean’s body. He pulled up to the Roadhouse, actually surprised that the lights were still on at this hour. He pulled the keys from the ignition, wincing in pain. His eyes shot to the empty passenger seat beside him, sighing. Climbing out of the Impala, Dean was careful not to hit his right arm on anything. A harsh sting coursed through his body, causing him to shake a bit from the shock. He was dizzy and he was sure he had lost a lot of blood. The stained seats of the Impala were proof of that.

Jo heard the slamming of a car door and rolled her eyes, not bothering to turn around just yet. She couldn’t believe that someone was just now showing up for their night of booze and war stories. She bit her tongue, waiting for the bells to chime with the opening of the door. As soon as she heard the door slam behind the straggling hunter, she spun around.

“Sorry, we’re clo… Dean?” Jo had intended to tell the straggler he would have to go, that she was just about to usher out the remaining stragglers as well. But she made eye contact with those beautiful green orbs, noticing immediately that he was not his normal self. His face was scratched, splattered with blood and dirt. And she saw the makeshift tourniquet on his arm, already soaked through with blood. He was walking with a limp, too. She hurried quickly around the counter, guiding him to a booth and sitting him down. Her head popped up, looking at the other hunters who were now staring. “Alright, everybody out! Roadhouse is officially closed.”

Dean smiled at Jo, despite the pain resonating through his body. She was always a sight for sore eyes, and the way she so competently handled any situation, even at four in the morning, never ceased to amaze him. His face and lips felt tight with his smile, which tore at some of the dried scratches from his earlier mishaps. He rested his arm gently on the table, wincing even at the slightest movement. His head rested against the booth, allowing his eyes to close as he listened to the serenade of stomping boots as they stumbled toward the door. And then finally it was peaceful as he heard the lock click behind Jo.

Jo moved quickly behind the counter, and began shuffling through the drawers, looking for her first aid kit. Her eyes glanced warily at the older Winchester, noticing that he seemed peaceful despite the blood. A small smirk was resting gently on his lips and she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. He was happy to be here in her care. And she was glad to have him. When he had walked through the door it was like she had been dunked in cold water. She was now more alert and awake than ever.

She finally found the first aid kit in the bottom drawer, grabbing it and a bottle of whiskey, and moved quickly back to the booth where Dean was. “What happened?” she asked, worry edging in her voice. She propped herself up on the table and began to unravel the white t-shirt Dean had tied around his arm. She noticed his muscles tense as she pulled the blood soaked shirt from his body, his eyes clamp tighter.

“Werewolves,” Dean answered, bluntly. The pain was excruciating. It never ceased to shock him how real the pain was after a hard hunt. It didn’t matter how many times he had been hurt, shot, stabbed, and bitten into – it still hurt like a bitch. “Fucking two of them.” His voice sounded like a low growl and his throat was dry. He felt the t-shirt pull away from his wound and he tensed up even tighter, knowing what was next.

Jo opened the bottle of whiskey, eyeing the wound. The werewolf that bit him had really torn into him. She was almost sure this bite was above her pay grade. But she knew Dean would have no nonsense of doctors and medical bills, no matter how much she insisted. It was “too risky” or “a waste of time”. They had already had the argument. She sighed, pouring the alcohol onto his arm. Dean jerked back, instinctively.

“Fuck!” he shouted. Jo took the opportunity to pour some whiskey down his throat, knowing he would scream like baby at the feeling of the alcohol against his open wound. Dean swallowed the burning liquid, coughing a bit. He hadn’t been expecting a dose for the mouth, too. He chuckled lightly, but quickly stopped, realizing the pain it caused in his stomach. He had been punched several times, as well.

Jo’s able hands began to work carefully on the wound, using only a sewing needle, some wire, and pair of pliers. In order to keep Dean’s mind off of the constant stabbing in his arm, she tried to talk to him, picking the worst topic first. She couldn’t help it, though. Her curiosity was burning. “Dean… where is Sam?” She knew that if Dean had Sam by his side, he wouldn’t have even come here. Sam would have nursed his wounds back at the motel and they would have gone about their business. She also knew that if the bite had been on the other arm, Dean would have been able to nurse his wound himself. For once, she was thankful that he wasn’t able to help himself. It gave her an excuse to be close to him.

Dean started to roll his eyes, but felt that it strained his head too much. There was a dull ache in his head to top off everything else that was wrong with him. And the last thing he wanted to talk about was Sam. He and Sam had gotten into an argument a few towns back and Sam had taken off on foot, like he often did when he was being a whiny baby. Dean huffed arrogantly. “We split up,” he answered, shortly.

Jo could tell by the tone of his voice that this was not a topic that she needed to dwell on. She sighed, looking into the Winchester’s eyes, which were now watching her work. He was mesmerized by her steady hand and the way she closed the wound seamlessly. Sam was more of a butcher when it came to this stuff, but Jo had a nearly artistic touch. The pain was duller now. After so long of pricking and poking, the entire area sort of goes numb. He felt her eyes boring into his and glanced up at her for a moment. He winked, licking his lower lip and noticing that it felt good to lick his lips – so he did it again. Her eyes fluttered back to his arm, so as not make any errors, and also not to fall prey to the infamous Dean Winchester’s charm.

“I was shocked you were still open,” he said, making small talk. Jo shrugged as she finished up her needle work and tied up the loose ends. She then took a washcloth and soaked it in alcohol, wiping down his arm. Dean’s eyes made their way up and down her torso, loving every moment of being beside her.

“It’s a good thing we were. Otherwise you might have actually had to go to a hospital,” she joked. She couldn’t fight off that stupid smile that made her look like such an easy target to his sexual innuendos and flirty banter, no matter how hard she tried. Dean scoffed, pulling his arm from her and stretching it out a bit. It still hurt like hell, but at least it would heal properly. The rest of him just needed a good washing and a solid four hours of sleep. He stood up, remembering that he was dizzy as he fell back to his seat. Okay, and maybe some food, too.

“I would have come knocking on your mother’s window before I went to a hospital,” Dean said after he fell back to his seat. “Got any of those bar nuts out?” He watched as Jo’s love drunk smile turned impishly playful. She nodded, walking to the bar and grabbing a platter, which she slid across the table to him along with a beer.

“Don’t fill up on that, though. I’ve got something better for you.” She went back into the kitchen, humming a familiar tune as she revved up the grill. Within moments the sweet scent of bacon was teasing Dean’s nose. He sighed, sauntering toward the bathroom. His favorite feature of the Roadhouse was the in-house showers. He could be washed up just in time to enjoy a nice home-cooked meal with a beautiful little lady. It almost felt magical, like he was in a dream. He had to remind himself that only a few hours ago he had nearly lost his life to a pair of werewolves.

The water felt nice running down his body, even though it stung a bit. It didn’t matter though. He could feel a hard day’s work rolling off his back, liberating him. As he stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a fresh towel around his waist, opting out of his dirty clothing. Putting them back on would be counterproductive. Plus, he couldn’t wait to see Jo’s face when she saw him emerge without his clothes.

Meanwhile Jo had thrown together a delicious bacon and sausage omelet with Louisiana Hot Sauce and pancakes with maple syrup in just over thirty minutes. She was a professional, after all. Sure, breakfast food wasn’t on the Roadhouse’s menu, but she liked to think it was her specialty. She had just set the table when she saw him saunter out of the bathroom, dressed in only a towel. All of her best efforts to keep a straight face failed her and she knew it.

Dean’s smirk was so evident on his face when he saw the shock followed by excitement flash across Jo’s face. He looked at the table, beaming at her. “What did I do to deserve such an awesome breakfast?” he asked. His voice was much more suave now than it had been earlier. The shower had rejuvenated him quite a bit. Dean maintained eye contact with the blonde who seemed to still be trying to regain her composure as he slid effortlessly into the booth across from her. He made no effort to keep his legs from grazing hers, although Jo adjusted slightly, pulling her legs in.

“Just shut up and eat, Winchester,” she snapped. Dean laughed at her sudden snarky attitude. Just a half hour ago she had been a sweet motherly Jo, and now she was all business. He glanced across the table at the omelet she had prepared for herself. It was much smaller than his and it was all she had on her plate. But Dean knew from experience the girl could eat. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What are you, a bird?” he said, eyeing her plate. She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat and stretching her legs out. They grazed Dean’s and she quickly jerked them back. He smirked at her, pretending as if it hadn’t happened, while noting that it had. She was nervous. She was nervous because they had never been alone like this – not for long anyway.

“What? No. I’m just… not that hungry,” she said, staring down at her plate for a moment. A coy smile formed on her lips as she kicked him playfully under the table. It was Dean’s turn to jerk his leg back as his eyebrows furrowed together. Jo’s laugh resonated in his ears turning a quick moment of fury into frustration.

“What the hell, Jo? I just came in from a hunt, remember? I’m a little sore.” Dean stabbed at his pancakes, stuffing his mouth as soon as he finished speaking. His words only added to Jo’s fuel. She looked at him in hysterical bewilderment.

“Jesus, Dean! Quit acting like a child,” she teased. Dean knew he was only digging his own grave. With every word he spoke she had more ammunition. So he held his tongue and just stared across the table. And suddenly the silence was deafening and neither one of them were eating, just staring at each other. Dean finally broke their gaze, looking back down at his plate. He shoveled a bite into his mouth.

“This is some damn good cooking, Harvelle,” he said through his food. He knew she found that to be his most unattractive attribute. Jo cringed, looking away from his mouth full of food. She couldn’t help but wonder how Dean ever managed to get a date. He had dirty humor and nasty habits. And yet, she couldn’t help but get lost in him, even after he spoke with his mouth full. She wanted to punch herself for being so attracted to the stupid hunter. She argued in her head, making tons of excuses why he was nothing but a stupid hunter. In doing so, her eyebrows furrowed together in the cutest little face of frustration that had Dean laughing like an idiot in no time.

“What’s so funny?” she snapped, still trying to convince herself there was nothing, whatsoever, that was attractive about the older Winchester (and failing miserably). Dean nearly snorted with laughter.

“You look like you’re trying to take a shit,” he said. Jo scoffed at his toilet humor, but couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. See… he’s just a disgusting hunter, she reassured herself. But the other side of her was breaking through as she stared at his bare chest. Her eyes studied his face for a moment as she felt a wave of serenity.

“Are you about finished pigging out? I thought we could watch the sunrise on the roof.” The words were out of her mouth before she could tell herself not to say them. She sighed, glancing out the window, afraid that his reaction might be utter rejection. Dean was honestly shocked that she had said it herself. That was normally the type of thing a couple did, right? Dean tilted his head to the side. He wasn’t really sure. He hadn’t had the luxury of much “coupling” time – just a few one night stands. He found himself wondering if Jo realized that Dean would be horrible at a relationship. His mind got to whirring about the possibilities so much that he forgot to respond. “Nevermind, it was stupid,” Jo answered, standing up and clearing the table.

Dean stood up with her, forgetting that he was in a towel. It slid off of him, crumpling to the floor before he could even reach for it. He grabbed it, wrapping it tightly around his waist again, but he knew it was too late. Jo had stared right at his junk. She hadn’t even tried to look away. And suddenly the air was different between them – like static electricity, just waiting for the proper friction to send sparks flying. Dean reached out, grabbing the plates and sliding them back onto the table. “It’s a great idea,” he breathed. Her face was inches from his and it would have been so easy to close the distance between them, but instead he took a step back.

“Lead the way,” he said. He followed Jo out the back door and up the makeshift staircase. Jo had built it herself after her father passed away. Something about the rooftop made her feel closer to him back then, as if being a few feet higher off the ground would somehow take her closer to heaven. Once they were on the roof, Jo walked over to a storage unit in the wall, opening it up. She pulled out a blanket and a few pillows and laid it down on the roof, still not speaking to the Winchester, for fear she might ruin the moment.

Dean stared up at the sky while Jo made a pallet for the two of them. It was already becoming lighter, but he could still see a few stars lingering. He stared over at Jo for a moment, who was getting situated on the pallet, making a pointed effort not to look at the overly muscular man in a towel. He laughed under his breath and found his place beside her.

“I’ve never done this,” he said, breaking the silence. “I mean… I’ve seen plenty-a sunrises. But never like this.” He exhaled, reveling in the moment of peace. Jo looked over at him, finally, feeling the electricity between them before darting her eyes away. Her heart began to pound as she swallowed her fear. She glanced up at the sky.

“I haven’t either,” she answered softly. Dean glanced over at her, reaching his hand out and resting it gently on her hand. His eyes stared desperately into hers. He wasn’t sure he had ever wanted anyone more than he wanted her in that moment. He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers. One hand remained on her hand, but the other cupped her face, pulling her into his kiss. Jo didn’t have time to react, to protest - only to melt into his kiss. And in that moment the entire universe didn’t make a difference.

She began to lay down slowly, as Dean followed her down, rolling on top of her. He didn’t bother keeping his towel in place, just flung it to the side. Jo noticed that the damp towel was gone, without even opening her eyes. She knew what was soon to happen if she didn’t do something about it. She mustered up enough strength to push him away, but then his lips were on her neck, kissing and biting and all of that energy went into a soft sigh. Her fingers combed through his hair and scratched at his back.

Dean didn’t think about what was happening. Right or wrong, this was here and now and unless she asked him to, he wasn’t going to stop. His hands grazed swiftly underneath her tank top, pulling it over her head and flinging it to the side. It toppled off the roof, but that was no matter to Dean or Jo. Neither of them noticed. They only noticed the feeling of their bodies pressing together, their sweat mingling in the damp summer morning. Jo, bit at his collarbone as she undid her belt and ripped it off of herself, throwing it to the side.

Dean nearly growled as he trailed his lips across her chest. He enveloped each of her nipples in his lips, sucking tenderly, biting playfully. All the while his hands worked at the buttons on her jeans. Why on earth did they make jeans with three buttons on them? He was frustrated with him, fumbling angrily. Jo let out a laugh mixed with a passionate sigh. “Just let me do it, Winchester,” she panted. Dean brought his lips back up to hers, his tongue dancing with hers in sweet melodic passion. He felt Jo wiggling out of her jeans, her hand grazing his erection in the process.

Jo could feel the warmth building up in her womanhood and she was desperate for his touch. When her hand grazed his cock, she gasped, wanting to hold it and squeeze it and pull it. But Dean’s presence over her was like a brick wall and she knew she wasn’t breaking through any time soon. He ripped at her jeans once she had gotten the buttons undone. “Never wear these pants again,” he ordered, flinging them behind him. Jo reached for him, trying to pull him back up to her, but he was too strong and persistent, lingering just above her beautiful pussy. And he could tell he was in a land that few, if any, had travelled before. He sighed, burying his face in her sweetness.

He didn’t hesitate to lap ferociously at her clit, going right for the sweet spot. He began to spell the alphabet across her clit, watching her squirm. Before he got to M, her legs were quivering and her hands were trying desperately to push his face away from her. But Dean shook his head, humming against her clit and only spelling faster. He kept going, even as she wrapped her legs around his head, throwing her own head back and riding out one hell of an orgasm.

“D-Dean! Dean…. Please,” she begged. She just wanted to feel him inside of her. Dean finished off with the most excruciatingly slow Z across her clit, pulling away from her seductively. At this point his cock was begging to be inside of her as much as he was. But he took his time, kissing back up her body, focusing in on her neck and right behind her ear.

“Please, what?” he whispered. Jo rolled her eyes back, tilting her head to give him more access to her neck. Her hand reached down, grasping a hold of his cock as she sighed, her legs still shaking from her first orgasm. She massaged up and down his shaft, listening to his breath grow shorter.

“Fuck me, Dean,” she said, no longer embarrassed or afraid. And just like that Dean was deep inside of her. Their breaths grew shorter with each thrust and Jo felt herself building up momentum pretty quickly. For a split second her eyes fluttered open. She stared up at Dean, who was looking down at her. And behind his green orbs and hard-jaw line was a beautiful purple and pink sunrise. She gasped in ecstasy.

“Dean… Dean it’s beautiful. Look,” she rolled over on top of him, grinding her hips against his. She wanted him to see the sunrise, but when Dean looked up and saw her grinding against him, the sunrise was the last thing on his mind. He glanced briefly behind her, but mostly he watched as her perky breasts bounced with every movement she made, and how her hair fell around her shoulders, and that sweet face she made when she hit the right spot. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered as she leaned into his neck, kissing him sweetly.

“Insanely beautiful,” he answered gruffly. And Jo knew he wasn’t talking about the sunrise like she was because his hips began to buck in rhythm with hers, pulling her down harder against his throbbing cock. He rolled his head back, closing his eyes and allowing the passion to consume them. The sound of Jo’s short moans only urged him on further. He waited to feel her tighten around him, to feel her cumming against him and then he just let it go.

They laid together for only a short moment, panting and gasping for air. But the aura around them was broken by a familiar voice. “Joanna Beth Harvelle! I know that is not you on that roof!” Dean looked at Jo, eyes wide, as Ellen’s voice rang in his ear. Jo pointed to the closet and Dean shuffled into it, crawling across the rooftop so as not to be seen. Jo wrapped up in the blanket and walked to the edge of the roof.

“Yeah, it’s me, Mom,” she answered, a bit of shame in her voice. Dean heard through the closet that Ellen was stomping up the stairs. And he knew that meant she had seen his car.

“Who the hell is up here with you?” her voice was sharp and Dean knew there was a reason he had never messed with Jo before. He began muttering expletives under his breath, looking frantically for another way out.

“N… no one, Mom. I was just…. Uh…” Jo looked down, turning red as Ellen marched directly toward the closet door. Dean took a deep breath and prepared for the light to come cascading in on his naked body. Before the door was even swung open he could hear her cursing.

“God damnit, Winchester! I know you’re in there!” She swung open the door, grabbing him by the ear and yanking him out of the closet. “What the hell were you thinking, boy?” The back of her hand stung against Dean’s cheek, but he looked back at her.

“Ellen,” he tried to rationalize. But Ellen wasn’t having any of his shit. Jo tried to step between the two, but Ellen forced her out of the way with just a glare that Jo knew all too well. She looked up at Dean apologetically as Ellen pointed to the stairs.

“Get the hell outta here,” she growled.

“Yes ma’am,” Dean answered, keeping his head down like a puppy with his tail tucked between his legs. But just before he walked down the stairs he managed to make eye contact with Jo. He put his hand up to the side of his face like a phone, winked, and then he was gone.


End file.
